


Some Kind of Distraction

by MissDelish (Vimeddiee)



Category: DCU, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Confessions, Established Relationship Sort Of, M/M, SMUTTY SMUT
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-13
Updated: 2014-11-13
Packaged: 2018-02-25 04:37:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2608739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vimeddiee/pseuds/MissDelish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Batman is trying to get work done, Superman refuses to let him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Some Kind of Distraction

**Author's Note:**

> This tumbled out of the cracks during the note-writing stage of a slightly larger work. I'm not completely happy with it, but I wanted to contribute more to the fandom so...TA-DA

“Mmmm…Clark, I’m trying to work.”

Bruce sat before his console, trying and failing to keep his attention on the resolved case he was logging into his private database while Clark stood behind the chair, nuzzling the side of his neck insistently.

It was proving to be the most problematic distraction.

Clark planted a searing kiss upon the sensitive skin at the juncture of Bruce’s neck and shoulder.

“Then why are you shirtless, you little tease? You know it drives me crazy.” Clark murmured against pale flesh, his hot breath tingling with each syllable and drawing out an involuntary shiver from Bruce.

“It’s summer and the equipment gives off a lot of heat.” He growled once he had some command over his senses.

“Your equipment’s not the only thing that’s overheating…”

And that was about right. Bruce was suddenly and painfully aware of the overwhelming warmth of Clark’s body and it was all he could do not to undress all the way and press himself against it. What he probably needed to think about instead was an ice-cold shower.

Clark nipped at bare skin upon Bruce’s shoulder, causing his coherent thoughts to falter and his fingers to pause over the keys of the console.

“Clark…”

“Yes?”

“I _may_ be able to finish my work faster if you stopped.”

“I know that. This is much more fun.” Clark chuckled, reaching around the chair and sliding warm hands over Bruce’s chest, slowly, enticingly. Bruce clenched his jaw as Clark’s fingers lingered at his nipples. Once again, Bruce attempted to force his attention towards the data…but Clark was dedicated to this current seduction. And it was working all too well.

Clark gave the rapidly hardening nipples a brief tweak, chuckling infuriatingly at Bruce’s bitten back groan.

“Want me to stop?” he asked gently, flicking at the stiff nubs. Bruce found himself arching towards Clark’s touch, feeling the lower half of the Batsuit constrict substantially.

“No…yes.” He breathed.

Clark buried his face in Bruce’s neck, lips curved into a smile against warm, fragrant skin. He inhaled the smell of leather, clean sweat and the dark musk that was all Bruce and that could harden him in an instant with just a whiff. Clark’s arms wrapped themselves around chair and detective, tightening ever so slightly with emotion and a faint possessiveness.

“Bruce, I love you.” He said, before he could stop himself. Bruce froze, Clark stiffened in turn. His gulp was audible.

“I…I didn’t mean – well, I _did_ mean – I wasn’t actually going to say that out loud, because I know you don’t – or at least I assumed you didn’t –”

“Clark–”

Clark removed himself immediately from Bruce’s space, taking a few steps back for good measure, as if angling for safe ground. Bruce swivelled around in his chair to face him, chest heaving and glistening with moisture. Clark arranged his features into a semblance of apologetic shyness that did nothing to veil the subtle panic in his eyes.

“I know, I know…Just – don’t say anything, I…don’t think I can handle it. Forget what I said.”

Bruce released a breath through his nose. “We had agreed that this… _physical_ thing we’re doing was the only acceptable way.”

Clark nodded emphatically. “Yes, you’re right and it’s enough for me, Bruce, I swear. I respect you and your need for privacy and I’m sorry I said that I–I’m sorry.” He finished hastily.

Bruce rubbed a hand across his face. Clark watched him warily like someone would a creature that could suddenly take flight at the smallest disturbance.

“Do you…would you prefer if I left you alone for a while?” Clark asked carefully.

Bruce sighed and stood, stalking towards the Kryptonian who was looking more nervous with each step that he took. Bruce raised a hand and cradled Clark’s face, much to the taller man’s surprise.

“You. Are. A. Moron.” He stated.

Clark released a breath that ruffled Bruce’s hair.

“The good kind I hope.”

“No, the moron kind.”

Bruce’s thumb brushed against Clark’s full lower lip. They stood close enough that their chests touched.

“It’s not enough for you, is it.” Bruce murmured. He saw the confusion in those beautiful blue eyes. “What we’re doing. It’s not enough for you.”

“That’s not–”

“Yes, it is.” Bruce’s brows knotted together in a frown and he lowered his gaze to Clark’s mouth, avoiding the piercing azure that would surely be his undoing.

“One year, Clark. One whole year of nothing but the best sex I’ve ever had and believing that I was telling you everything you needed to know with my body. I…I’ve never known any other way.”

He knew those unearthly eyes were searching him, looking right through him and he continued… propelled and strengthened by them.

“I don’t want you to tip-toe around me, Clark. I may not be able to fully say it back, not now…but I will. What you said won’t scare me away and it’s not the first time I’ve heard it. You’ve been telling me this for the past year, just not with words. And I…I’ve been saying it back in kind.”

There was a silence in which Bruce began to doubt that his words had had any sort of effect but this was dispelled by the warm press of Clark’s mouth upon his. The kiss started out tender, soft and lingering, with Clark’s large hands gently wandering over Bruce’s shoulders, down his back and towards his waist, where they rested. It was a kiss that communicated what had been said as well as what still remained unsaid, at least on Bruce’s part.

Soon Clark’s tongue was pushing into Bruce’s mouth and one of them moaned softly, most likely Bruce, not that he was focused on anything other than the taste of Clark. The kiss deepened and they devoured each other hungrily and when Bruce sucked at Clark’s tongue, the man let out a muffled groan.

“Bruce, I’m so hard, I need to–”

“ _Yes._ ”

They stumbled over to one of the cots and collapsed ungracefully into it, kissing and groping and grinding. Bruce straddled Clark and pressed his hardness against the answering hardness beneath.

“Clothes off.” He said, voice hoarse. In the blink of an eye, Clark had them bare and Bruce shook his head lightly to clear his vision. He thrust his hips slowly, letting Clark’s cock drag against his own with delicious friction.

Having grabbed some lube as he had undressed them at high-speed, Clark was more than ready to continue his somewhat-forgotten seduction, but the sight of Bruce’s heated face and the sound of his small moans as he rubbed himself against Clark was enough for him to essentially lose all function of his brain cells.

Instead, Clark slicked his cock shakily and Bruce impaled himself without further preparation, ignoring Clark’s surprised gasp. Bruce growled and began to ride him, feeling how the other man grasped at his waist with increasing strength as he got closer, blue eyes sparkling and dark brows knotted in pleasure. Bruce took his own cock in hand and began to pump himself, leaning forward to press a hot kiss to Clark’s mouth and it was at that moment that Clark came, his cry muffled by lips and tongue. One, two pumps later, Bruce spilled himself on Clark’s chest, his groans hoarse and his body racked with pleasure that gradually ebbed away and transformed into something sweeter.

When they came down from their high they settled into each other’s arms; a first for Clark who, out of respect for Bruce, would avoid any sort of prolonged post-coital contact.

“So…does this mean I’m not a moron anymore?” Clark said, after a brief, breathless silence.

“No Clark, you’ll always be a moron.”

Clark snorted, burying his face against Bruce’s neck, breathing in his scent.  Bruce’s arms encircled him and he dropped a gentle kiss on the top of Clark’s head, making him look up in surprise.

Bruce gave him a little quirk of his lip. “But you’re _my_ moron.”

Clark’s face lit up with such a brilliant smile that Bruce felt himself temporarily blinded. “I love you too, Bruce.”

And, still entwined, they dozed on the remains of the cot…Bruce’s console and half-logged data quite forgotten.

 

 


End file.
